After she decided on helping her damn ex- title he chose for himself the day he disappeared from their apartment without any explanation- she debated on what to do.

Should she take him home or dump him inside the nightclub and call 911?

Her mind was quick to voice her opinion.

That's an excellent idea, Tara. You can get rid of him easily and forget you ever encounter him.

But could she? Eight years ago, she was barely able to maintain her sanity after he left. What would his parting do to her this time? Goosebumps covered her fair skin at the thought of enduring that kind of pain once again.

No. She wouldn't let things get that far.

She would take him home, bandage him up- just like old times- and send him on his way. Tara wanted no part in whatever problem he was involved with this time.

And that meant she couldn't call the authorities to lend him aid. Paramedics would call the police and the Madame hated any type of law enforcers near her establishment.

The blond let out a long, tired breath before going inside the nightclub and calling Shael over.

Thanks to the news of the serial killer, things were slow that night so it wouldn't be so bad if the incubus left the bar unattended for a few minutes.

"What do you need, babe?" the demon asked as he followed her to the dark and cold alleyway. "Did you decided to let me have a piece of your ass?" He winked, giving her a mischievous smile that showed off his fangs.

She shook her head but couldn't hide the small smirk gracing her lips. "If I wanted to have sex with you, mister, I would have taken you to the soundproofed bedrooms on the second floor." The mention of sex made his clear aquamarine eyes gleam in the darkness; gleam that was completely ignored by his female companion. "I need your help with this," she announced, rounding the pile of boxes to point at Marcus' unconscious and bleeding form.

The brown-haired male arched a single brow. "You did this?"

"Of course not. Humans may bring out the worst of me sometimes, but I don't hate their entire race."

Eyes narrowed on her. "Then, I'm guessing you want to patch him up, so why...? Why do you want to help this mortal?"

"He is... I know him, okay?"

"No more questions, then." Shael lifted his arms in clear surrender. "One more, though. Where do you want me to take him?"

"To my house."

The look on the incubus' face said he wasn't pleased with that answer, but he grabbed Marcus by the back of his ruined suit jacket, offered her a hand, and teleported them out of the darkened alleyway.

Once they materialized into her living room, Shael dropped the wounded man over the floor and turned to the witch. His aquamarine gaze softened as he cupped her cheek. "If you sense anything strange... anything at all, call me." His irises left her to eye the unconscious human. "I fear this man will only bring you troubles."

Her amber orbs warmed at his words and she took his hand away from her skin before placing a quick kiss on his cheek. His eyes sparkled as a small smile curved her lips. "If push comes to shove, I will call you. It's a promise."

He nodded and, with a gentle kiss on her forehead, vanished from the house.

The blond sighed and turned on the lights, plus the heater, before effortlessly carrying her wounded guest to her mahogany couch. Even when she had renounced to use magic, her reluctance didn't apply to things like her inhuman strength and agility.

Marcus grunted when she began ripping his jacket and shirt to pieces and his eyelids fought a few times with weakness before finally revealing his chocolate irises. His lips opened, trying to say something, but it was difficult when his tongue felt like lead. If he managed to voice anything at all it must have sounded like a twisted moan.

"I bet you have plenty of money to buy a dozen suits even more expensive than this one, so stop whining about it," Tara grumbled, pushing a hand to his now bared chest to keep him from moving. "And don't you dare move an inch until I return to clean your wounds," she warned, leaving in the direction of the bathroom.

Once inside the blue and white tile-covered walls, she sighed for a second time as she leaned against the shut door. Her hands were stained red with his blood... just like that night.

Just like the night they met.

It was summer. She came from seeing a client when she heard the loud bang of a door followed by angry yells. From the back of a bar, three mortal giants, with arms the size of her waist, threw another human to the alley, threatened to kill him if they ever saw him around again, and went inside laughing.

Sometimes she wondered why she bothered living with such destructive and warring creatures. They remind me of father's species so much.

Tara shook her blonde head and was about to keep going when the bruised mortal laying on the alley called out to her.

"Help... please."

His voice sounded like his attackers had made him eat gravel and glass shards. It was broken and raw just like his face. But something in his plea touched a string in her stone heart, compelling her to lend him her aid.

And when she helped him to his feet her hands were forever stained with his blood. From that moment on they became each other's lifeline... or so she thought.

Tara grimaced and shut her eyes while her hand went to her chest in a vain attempt to purge the pain out of her heart. Even after eight years, the sentiment was strong as the day she found him gone.

When it's going to end? When?

Tears gathered in her eyes but, refusing to let them fall, she blinked them away, took a deep breath, and searched for the first aid kit she always kept in case of a human emergency. It had become a custom to keep one after she met Marcus and now it was one of those things she couldn't get rid of.

Walking out of the bathroom like she hadn't come close to breaking, the blond went to her living room and her left eyebrow arched up in amazement. Mister Di'nardo, the man that never listened to her, was quietly waiting in the exact position she left him.

"You seem surprised to see me on your couch."

"Because you never listened to me before," she stated, holding his chocolate stare.

"Is that so?" His mouth tried to curve up in a smile. "There's always a first, don't you think?"

His voice sounded strained and that fact snapped her to attention. Kneeling before him, she began cleaning the blood and dirt out of his fit torso, carefully avoiding the almost perfect holes in his now pale flesh. Each stroke of her damp cloth made him tremble which made her squirm in turn.

His skin was so sensitive that even her softest of actions caused him pain or was he shaking because of something else? Maybe he wanted her hands against his skin?

In the past, there were times when the cleaning and bandaging of wounds led to heated caresses and kisses that somehow ended with them naked and sweaty.

She could recall it vividly. His fingers gliding over her pale, feverish skin. Tongue licking the beads of her sweat as he pushed himself inside with a delicious grunt rumbling against her skin. Moans. Her pleas for more...

What? What the hell are you thinking, Tara? You never should have brought him home. Finish patching him up and throw him outside!

"What made these perfect rounded wounds to you?" she asked out of the blue, fully intending on purging their sexual encounters out of her head.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," she challenged him, grabbing a needle and thread to close the four holes. "You wouldn't believe how open my mind is."

His brow furrowed deep in thought. Would it be wise to tell her about the creatures he never believed existed until that night? She always appeared so fragile to him that he feared the consequences of such action. On the other hand, no weak-minded woman could endure being a prostitute since her sixteens and still be a functional human being.

Her clear ambers, which up close showed streaks of brown and even white, narrowed as her lips became a thin line. It was clearer than day that his silence annoyed her and yet she didn't utter a word.

Strange.

Marcus leaned his head over the sofa's armrest and his lips moved of their own accord. He began narrating how his boys and he were ambushed by monsters with claws and fangs; creatures he thought only existed in books and movies.

Every now and then his words were interrupted by grunts or hisses that showed his discomfort as the needle entered and exited his flesh.

But when he finished his story, Tara only clicked her tongue and reached for the gauze to start wrapping his shoulder.

Another grunt escaped his lips when he took a sitting position to help her bandage him. He then cocked his head as his dark eyes watched her intently. "You think I'm crazy, right?"

She shook her head. "I have never heard of those creatures you describe and that worries me." Her voice tickled his ear while she wrapped more gauze around his chest.

Marcus closed his eyes and inhaled her mouthwatering aroma. Her skin still smelled of oatmeal and shea butter and the wavy blond locks that brushed against his neck made him crave strawberries.

"You dyed your ends," he blurted out the first thing in his mind to keep himself from pulling her down and kissing her until she was dizzy from his taste.

His temptress pulled away from him and glanced at the pink tips of her wavy mane. A wicked smirk showed in her plump lips and he swore she could hear his thoughts. "Yes."

Damn, she was gorgeous. A beauty that appeared to have been molded by the very hands of God.

Her heart-shaped face still looked as youthful as eight years ago and her curvy figure hadn't acquired an ounce of fat.

She was so perfect that her beauty seemed otherworldly.

Marcus swallowed hard, making his Adam's apple move up and down. "Thanks." Lowering his gaze, he continued. "After what I did you didn't have to help me but you..."

"Shh." She put a finger to his broken lips, silencing him. "There's no need to thank me. It was only a whim, so think nothing about it."

The silence stretched between them for long minutes, each one lost in their thoughts until Creed's Fear began playing out of the blue.

After a quick search, Tara found Marcus' cellphone hidden among the remains of his suit jacket and handed it to him. He didn't need to see the screen to know who was calling. Fear was his boss' ringtone.

"Where are you? Do you know what the hell happened out there? I'm getting reports of explosions in Queens, but no one can explain to me this sudden chaos." Vergil's voice came out sharp and demanding without bothering to let him talk. Classic of his boss.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking, Vergil," the dark-haired man answered in an even voice that dripped with sarcasm.

At the mention of that name, the witch momentarily froze from gathering the pieces of clothing scattered over her floor. Could Marcus' boss be the same Vergil she knew? The same man- correction, high demon lord- she worked for indirectly?

"Marcus," the male stretched the name in warning. "You know I hate your sarcasm."

The man in question eyed the far wall as if it was his friend on the other side of the line. "Well I hate when you get demanding without bothering to be civil, so we're even."

"Answer my questions, Marcus Di'nardo! That's an order!"

His employer screamed so loud he had to pull away the cellular to avoid becoming deaf Marcus, the useless mobster. His anger mounting, he finally answered, "I'm at a friend's house. Do I know what's happening? Yes, I almost died out there, boss," he gritted through clenched teeth.

Silence answered him. Then, Vergil's voice came out in a softer tone.

"How are you? Is the place you're staying at safe?"

Marcus had to take deep breaths to keep himself from snapping at his boss and friend. In the end, he knew Vergil was a cold asshole. "I have four new holes but otherwise I'm alive... and no, you owe some answers! You knew the Yakuzas were turning into hideous monsters?"

"So, the war has truly begun." Controlled anger marred the voice at the other end of the phone.

"I knew it! Why didn't you tell me, man? I thought we were friends, brothers even."

Any words the other male could have said were drown out by Tara's loud curse and the awful cry of the front door as it was splintered into a million pieces.

Acting with quickness, the witch grabbed the phone from her guest's hands. "Marcus is with me, Ashtarae, sir. I'll try to protect him the best I can," she informed, tossing the device back into its owner's hands before taking the magic gun from the guy's holster and pointing at the enemies spilling into her living room.

Three of the mutated Yakuzas her ex had been talking about, two fire demons and four hellhounds that she couldn't see but could smell.

The odds were against them.

We're fucked.

***********************
A/N: Are you enjoying the story? This one is supposed to be more action packed that Tied to Darkness, so I hope I can keep up to the challenge 😁😎.

Song: Because of You from Kelly Clarkson

Chapter word count: 2,330
Total word count: 4,577